


i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me / what you'd do to me tonight.

by incalyscent



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Almost Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Attempt at Humor, Begging, Coming Untouched, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Lowercase, Multiple Orgasms, Pegging, Praise Kink, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Wing Oil As Lube, anyways i have no shame and only a few regrets, for both!!, i almost forgot that tag what's wrong with me, just a little bit this time, local ace does porn, local poet does prose, maze is a good wingman, no beta we die like men, not that you can tell here but, sabriel don't look, spring rolls not gender roles, yeah i know don't look at me like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 18:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20451773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incalyscent/pseuds/incalyscent
Summary: “fuck, lucifer.”“thatiswhat we’re trying to accomplish here, yes.”





	i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me / what you'd do to me tonight.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swankkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swankkat/gifts), [Dorkling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorkling/gifts), [The_Royal_Gourd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Royal_Gourd/gifts).

> honey, this club here is stuck up  
dinner and diatribes  
i knew well from our first hookup  
the look of mischief in your eyes  
your friends are a fate that befell me  
hell is the talking type  
**i'd suffer hell if you’d tell me  
what you'd do to me tonight**
> 
> -hozier, _dinner and diatribes_.

chloe finds it exactly where she left it, high up on the top of her shelf so trixie (or, god forbid, _ maze _) couldn’t find it.

the bag had fallen down during a swift closet clean out, and chloe had opened it without really thinking about it, wondering idly of its contents even though she’s sure her hindbrain certainly knew, which is why as soon as the bag opens her thoughts come to a sliding stop.

sitting right on top is the simple strap-on and harness she’d bought several, _ several _ years ago for a justice institute girlfriend that, clearly, hadn’t panned out. it gleams a dark, devilish red where it sits obscured in shadow. she only has to imagine lucifer spread out in front of her, gasping her name _ once _ before she kicks the whole duffle to the back of her closet and slams the door.

she did _ not _need to think about that.

-

she can’t stop thinking about it.

she tries to convince herself of many things, just because she doesn’t know how to bring it up to him. first, it was that he might find it weird, which didn’t hold because it was _ lucifer _ , who’d done anything and everything at _ least _ once. and - who was she kidding - he’d love it. she feebly tries to think about how _ she _didn’t want it, and that didn’t pan out either, considering all she’s been thinking off since she opened that bag was fucking the smirk off his face.

she rubs one out to the thought that night, having been impossibly wet the whole day. she’s almost entirely sure that lucifer could _ smell _ it on her, because he had been extra leering and touched her just a _ bit _more than usual, and it drove her up the wall, made her want to leap out of her skin.

-

the next time she sees that strap-on, it’s hitting her in the face.

the noise she makes is undescribable.

“sup, decker.” it’s maze. chloe feels her vision tunnel in like she’s a trapped animal, and the reaction is overt, she knows that, but it’s _ maze _.

“where did you get this?”

maze throws herself onto the chair opposite of chloe, and chloe watches her mouth curl up like a snake ready to strike. it’s odd, how people pick up each other’s expressions when they’ve known each other for long enough. lucifer’s grin flashes back at her from maze’s face, sharp and knowing and lewd.

“in your closet.”

“and it never occurred to you that, perhaps, you shouldn’t go through other people’s personal belongings?”

maze wrinkles her nose. “no. why?”

chloe sighs, and gingery places the harness on the couch next to her. “no reason.”

“so,” maze leans forward, and her expression reminds chloe of a cat facing a cornered mouse, “when are you gonna tell him you want to fuck him?”

chloe splutters, a sheet of paper flying off the table on the wave of her breath. she feels like the mouse. 

“i don’t want to be the person who talks about how i fucked your boyfriend, but -” maze shrugs - “i fucked your boyfriend and he _ loved _ it. i can only assume it’d be better with you. considering he like, _ likes _you or whatever.”

chloe fights the creeping heat that slithers up her face, doing her damnedest not to look maze in the eyes. she resolutely keeps any _ images _ her brain cooks up to herself, at least for the time being. the strap-on sits innocently next to her and she does her best not to look at that either.

“thanks. for your advice, maze.” her voice sounds flat. maze doesn’t notice. she just smacks her hands down on the table as she gets up.

“get it, decker.”

chloe hangs her head and hides her face in her hands.

-

chloe wakes on the couch to her phone buzzing after dinner and maybe more red wine than totally necessary.

“decker,” she answers, her voice fuzzy from sleep. there’s a warm chuckle on the other end that she would have recognized in death, and it makes a smile bloom on her face like springtime when she hears it. 

“hello detective.”

“hey,” she says, doing her best to clear the sleep from her voice, “what’s up?”

“oh, nothing out of the ordinary.” there’s the distinct sound of him pouring a drink, and chloe can easily imagine him at his bar, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder. she can practically see the way he swivels to put the decanter away, the red light gleaming off the back of his waistcoat. “maze did tell me something quite interesting, though.”

“oh?” it takes a little while for chloe’s brain to wipe the fog off enough for her to make the connection. when she does, she goes very still, her eyes wide enough that they feel cold. “she didn’t.”

“she did.”

chloe holds the phone away from her ear and lifts her eyes to the ceiling, taking a few breaths to heave down the mix of emotions that pushes up against her belly. embarrassment, anger, some other things she doesn’t want to unpack right now. she hears lucifer’s tinny voice say _ so it’s true, then? _ and chloe brings the phone back to her ear.

“what’s true?”

“that you want to fuck me, of course.”

chloe nearly drops her phone as she springs from the couch to check to see if trixie’s door is closed. it is, thankfully, and chloe can retreat up the stairs into relative privacy while her heart still hammers up her throat. “jesus, lucifer.”

“lovely chap, but i’d rather not talk about him right now.”

chloe has to stop climbing to huff a laugh. “you’re impossible.”

he makes a noncommittal noise of agreement. “is that why you were so distracted the other day?” his voice has gotten low, teasing, laced with that flirtatious joy that annoyed her so much back when she first met him. now, it makes her heart kick into double time. she shuts the door to her room.

“yes.”

chloe isn’t expecting the groan that slithers into her ear, the one that starts low in his chest and ends coiled tightly in the pit of her stomach.

“oh,” she says, breathless, exhilarated, “you _ want _ it, don’t you?”

she can hear the shift of clothing - him taking a seat, maybe. “_ yes _.”

chloe sits on her bed, swallows so thicky she’s sure he can hear it. “okay.”

“i’ll make it good for you, i promise,” he says, as if he could do anything else. she almost laughs - it comes out as a puff of air - but chloe is thoroughly winded by the desperation that had crept into his voice.

“you’ve only ever been good to me, lucifer,” she says, and it comes out huskier than she intended. he doesn’t seem to mind, making a tiny helpless noise into her ear.

“when can you come over,” he says. chloe swears she hears a zipper. she doesn’t think about it too much. 

“tomorrow after work?”

he makes a sound that is suspiciously like a purr. “i’ll be waiting.”

-

he is incorrigible at work. his grin is cut onto his face, and he’s lingering just a little bit to close. ever since they actually got together, he’s been a professional at work - well, as professional as he gets - but today, he pushes it just a little bit; his fingers brushing along chloe’s shoulder just a little bit too long; his voice low enough she can feel it in her chest. still, he refuses to be dragged into the supply closet, citing she’ll _ spoil all the fun _, and they leave separately, lucifer back to lux and chloe to gather trixie from school to help her pack to go to dan’s. when she gets back to her home, she gathers the duffle with jittering hands, her heart immolated in her chest.

-

that elevator ride has never seemed so long. the bag hangs down by her side, strap over her shoulder, and chloe is ever aware of its light weight. when the doors finally ding open, she does take a moment to just stand there and take a breath, even as she can barely glance lucifer getting up from the couch, peering at her curiously. she steps out into the penthouse, and smoothes her hair from her face. lucifer abandons his tumbler on the coffee table turning to face her. he’s lit up, excited, swaying a little on his feet, his thumb and index finger rubbing together in that telltale way longtime smokers do.

“hello, darling,” he says. he eyes the bag, then his eyes come back to chloe’s face. he’s devoid of a jacket, but chloe spies the gleam of purple at the back of his waistcoat. she holds her hands out towards him. she watches some of the tension that had gathered in his shoulders drop. he’s still fidgeting, unsure of whether he can go to her.

“don’t be weird,” she says, and his laugh is a breath of fresh air, “come here.”

and he does, takes both her hands in his own, allowing her to reel him in, stretch up to peck a kiss to his lips.

“are you nervous?” he doesn’t go far to speak, and they come out sweet as wine on her lips. she tips her head, and his voice has disturbed the butterflies, and they bat against her ribs and take her eyes over his shoulder.

“more… excited than nervous, but -” she doesn’t have to finish, because he nods. chloe loops her arms around his neck and kisses him again, just chaste and soft. he surprises her by deepening it, licking into her mouth, his hands at her waist. she makes a little sound, and he takes her lower lip between his teeth as he draws back. he nudges her, just gently, until her back hits the cool metal of the elevator doors.

“let’s see if we can’t calm your nerves a little, hmm?”

her breath catches when he gets on his knees in front of her, his eyes locked with hers, mouth curved in an insufferable smile. his gaze only drops as his hands gently grip her calf, encouraging her foot up so he can ease her shoes off her feet, one by one. chloe swallows, slowly letting the duffle bag lower to the floor, silently, as if she could possibly spook him from his position in front of her, before she puts one of her hands on his shoulder for balance. his eyes flick to it, then up at her, and she watches the desire pool into him, could pinpoint the exact moment he decides to nose along the inner seam of her thigh and press his face to her belly.

“_ please _ ,” he breathes, and she can feel it through her clothes, “ _ please _, chloe.”

she can’t help but shudder as arousal dribbles down her spine, banking off her vertebrae to pool in her gut. he’s already _ begging _. he’s already begging and their clothes aren’t even off. her mouth is dry as she swallows, nods, hyper aware of the way his hands bracket her hips, slip up to push up the hem of her shirt. she chokes on a noise, tipping her head back, when his tongue finds the skin below her navel.

“yeah, _ yes _ ,” she says. he undoes the button on her jeans with his _ teeth _ , the bastard, but lets one hand travel to stroke between her legs, no doubt feeling how hot she is already. she bites her lip as he draws the zip down, following with the clever tongue of his. he takes her underwear down when he drags her pants halfway off, only allowing one leg real freedom before he’s pulling it over his shoulder and putting his mouth on her in one motion. chloe gasps, leg twitching on reflex. it’s not the most comfortable position, and standing for _ anything _ isn’t exactly practical, but she can’t bring herself to care, just curls her fingers against his shoulder and puts the other in his hair.

“oh,” she gasps as his tongue fucks into her, and she can feel how _ wet _ she is against his mouth. he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe over her clit, and it jolts all the way through her. “ _ lucifer _.”

he rumbles against her, and chloe has to stop her eyes from rolling back in her head from the vibration. she hadn’t been with a man who liked eating her out as much as lucifer does; she knows he can get off just on this, they’ve done it before; knows that he’d gladly stay down on his knees for hours and pleasure her just like this. he does something with his tongue that she can’t even comprehend past the sudden weakness in her knees, and when she spares a bleary eyed glance down his eyes are burning back up at her, watching, black holes of desire.

she grabs his hair more fully and bucks her hips against his face and he _ moans _, and that nearly tips her right over the edge. he thrusts his tongue into her and lets her ride his face, lets her grind against the bridge of his nose, pulling him closer by the hair until the pleasure turns supernova. chloe comes with a strangled cry, holding him close, letting the sound of his quiet groans chase her through it. 

he doesn’t go anywhere, mouth still eager on her. she gasps when he sucks her clit into his mouth, very sensitive but still wanting. when her hold slips on his hair he _ growls _ and pulls her hips towards him, his wings unfurling with a crack and the sudden overwhelming smell of ozone. his feathers brush the arch of her calf and send desire straight to the pleasure center of her brain, and she’s barely finished her first orgasm before she crashes through her second, mangling something that sounds like his name in the back of her throat.

chloe doesn’t know when she closed her eyes, but she does know she can hear his ragged breathing over her own, and that she’s _ shaking _ and she is starting to learn why people lined the block to spend one night with him. when she finally has the energy back to crack her eyes open, he’s still kneeling before her, dark eyes peering up at her, his mouth wet, his hair wild. his wings are arched and shivering behind him, showing his excitement, even as he places a kiss to her knee and lets her leg down again, smoothing his hand up her thigh.

“well then,” chloe says, her lungs still not caught up with the rest of her. his answering chuckle is hoarse, and he has to wipe his mouth, lick his fingers clean. he nuzzles into her belly, kisses her thighs while she gets her bearings. just because she can, she reaches to card her fingers through the shimmering feathers closest to her, and she can just barely hear his whimper it’s so soft. “come here.”

he folds his wings in to get to his feet. she immediately drags him into a kiss, tasting brine on his lips. she kicks off her pants, and leaves them there, outside of the elevator. she strokes a hand up his spine, fingers scratching where his wings once were, and she knows that they’ll be back. it didn’t take him long to figure out that she liked them. he purrs, leaning into her, letting her sneak a hand between him to slide her fingers along the front of his slacks. she presses the heel of her hand against his cock and he moans, low and wanting. she removes it to start on the buttons of his waistcoat, and she feels a surge of pride when his hips try to follow.

“how about we take this to the bedroom,” he says, right up against her ear, before he puts a hot kiss under it. chloe shudders, finally managing the last button of his vest free enough to push it from his shoulders. it’s probably expensive, but he doesn’t seem to care as it hits the floor, now very focused on lavishing her throat in kisses.

“you’ll have to carry me.” he wastes no time picking her up, and she wraps her legs around him. he stoops to pick up the bag and then carries her up the stairs with practiced ease, even has his mouth drops to whatever skin isn’t covered by her shirt; her collarbones, the tops of her breasts. he puts her down and tucks his fingers under the edge of her shirt, pushes it until it bunches at her waist.

“may i?” he says the words into the curve of her shoulder. she’s untucking his shirt from his pants when she nods. they part briefly for her top to land on the floor and then he kisses her, gently, like she’s the most precious thing in the world. his fingers expertly unclasp her bra, and she lets it slide off her without a second thought.

“now, you really are wearing too many clothes,” chloe says into the hollow of his throat, as she starts pulling the buttons of his shirt open, one by one, dragging her knuckles against freshly exposed skin. he swallows, slowly, like she’d stop if he moved to fast save for the flutter of his eyelashes. when she can finally slide her hands along his bare sides she finds them slick with oil, darkening the fabric over her hands, and she groans softly, but still loud enough to feel him shiver from it. his wings are gone for now, but just knowing just eating her out had gotten him wet made well worn arousal pool within her once again.

“you want it bad, don’t you?” her voice is lower than she intended, and he makes a sound just above the sudden rush of his lungs, wasting no time helping her shed his shirt, toeing out of his shoes at the same time.

“practically gagging for it, darling,” he says. she pops the button on his trousers so hard she’s surprised it didn’t fly off. it earns her a low chuckle that only gets choked off when she lets her knuckles graze his hard cock as she undoes his zip. he wiggles out of his pants and sends them flying, just so he can get his hands back on her, sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts. he strokes his thumbs over her nipples and chloe can’t help but sigh, arching up into that touch until he replaces one of his hands with his mouth.

“lucifer,” she says, and he rumbles. she curls and hand into his hair and gives a little tug. “help me put this thing on, before you get too distracted.”

she misses his mouth almost instantly, even if it is curved deliciously, even if she gets to stare at his backside as he bends to free the harness from where it was hidden away. he straightens with it dangling from his index finger, looking at it appraisingly. the dildo isn’t huge, mostly smooth. practical. effective. still, when he turns that nighttime gaze towards her again it’s hungry, something soft and unreadable in the depths of them. he has the straps sorted in no time flat, but takes a moment to look her over. she doesn’t feel exposed under his eyes, or uncomfortable. just appreciated, sexy, _ loved _. he kneels before her again and this time just kisses her thighs aimlessly, like he couldn’t keep his mouth off her if he wanted to. she steps into the harness and he pulls it up her legs, pulling the straps snug.

it’s weird, like it always has been, to have that silicone cock strapped to her, but even just the way that the base of it is pressed up against her makes her curl her toes, because she’s already so _ sensitive _from coming twice already, and he knows it. he looks up, and runs his tongue up the underside of her cock, and just the image has her groaning, weaving her fingers back into his hair.

“bed,” she says, her voice rough in a way that makes lucifer’s eyes darken. he nuzzles up into her hands before he’s scrambling to comply.

“how do you want me?” he asks, kneeling on the bed, beckoning her with his whole body so chloe goes to him on her knees.

“on your back,” she says, pushing a hand onto his shoulder until he reclines, “i want to see you.”

“oh,” he says, and it’s almost weak. he lays back willingly though, peering up at her through his eyelashes. she parts his legs and settles between them, but she can’t help but touch him, making new constellations with the freckles on his chest until he shivers.

“lube?” she asks, right as she pinches his nipple, so all she gets is a gasp in response. she grins, and it feels wolfish. “lucifer?”

he laughs, breathless, and covers her teasing hand with his own, drags it down his side until that leftover oil covers her fingers. she doesn’t need to ask any questions; she knows what he wants and his want coils, red hot, in the pit of her stomach.

“_ fuck _, lucifer.”

“that _ is _ what we’re trying to accomplish here, yes.”

chloe snorts, bowing her head. he grins up at her, openly happy, tension gone from his shoulders, and chloe’s chest heats up in that way that it does; like a hummingbird hovering at the edge of a flower, consumed by the beauty and the need of it. she rubs her fingers together, feeling the oil slick on her skin.

“and this is safe?”

he hums softly, tipping his head back. “it was yesterday.”

arousal slides into chloe’s belly. “you fucked yourself thinking about this, didn’t you?”

“_ yes _,” he gasps, part in answer, part because chloe had slid her slick fingers down the underside of his cock. chloe pauses, and his hazy eyes land back on her. he doesn’t get impatient. not here, not ever.

“i haven’t done this before,” she says. he shifts his hips, relaxing his legs wider, and she swallows.

“you’re a smart woman, i trust you,” he says. he smirks a little before he says “it’s been a while though; be gentle with me,” even as he gives her another once over, his eyes lingering on her cock.

and she is; when she pushes one finger into him it’s slow, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping his head back with a quiet groan, mouth parted in pleasure. his eyes flutter shut, and he lifts his hips into it, and the way his body opens up to her is inexplicably sexy. he’s as responsive as ever, maybe even moreso, so when she curls her finger just so to drag it back out his back arches and he chokes on a moan, pretty flush chasing golden skin down his chest. he puffs a breathless chuckle, dazed eyes opening back up to look at her.

“i thought you said you hadn’t done this before.” his tone is hardly accusatory. she does it again, and he _ whines _.

“doesn’t mean i didn’t do my research.”

“_ chloe _,” he says. her free hand slides up his thigh to settle on his stomach, able to feel the flex of his muscles as he does his best to hold himself still for her. 

“want another?” she asks, and his fervent nod is all she needs to slide her middle finger into him as well. he moans at the stretch, clearly not uncomfortable, though his breathing has begun to pick up, moving through his ribs like a lazy wave. chloe crooks her fingers again and the sound he makes is definitely not english.

“you should have stayed on the phone,” she says, and lucifer’s eyes land on hers, hazy with pleasure, “i could have done a _ lot _ with the pretty sounds you make.”

he opens his mouth to speak just as she twists her fingers and he chokes instead, one of his legs twitching. he chuckles breathlessly. “where’s the novelty in that?” he asks, voice so rough it sparks on the flint of her and sets her ablaze. “it always feels so much better when you do it anyways, darling.”

chloe’s eyes shutter shut for a moment, and she rocks her hips forward unconsciously. he notices, because of course he does. that grin looks even better when his eyes are bright with lust, when he can’t quite catch his breath; sharp and soft all at once, both wolfish and doe-eyed.

“the first time you touched my wings, i was absolutely _ mad _ with it,” he says, his voice barely above a purr, “couldn’t reach anything i needed to. had to think of you touching them to bring myself off.”

chloe groans, and she wants him so, _ so _ badly; to bury her fingers in his wings and listen to him beg for it. he says “give me another,” in a voice that knows exactly what she’s thinking and she slides in a third finger next to the other two, crooks them and _ rubs _, and is rewarded with a choked moan and a reappearance of those wings. they unfurl behind him, slow like clouds in front of the moon, and contrast with the dark sheets, the reddened hue of his skin. the setting sun leafs them in gold, tinges them soft, peach pink. chloe reaches and cards her fingers through their exposed undersides, watches him buck his hips while his eyelashes flutter.

“please, chloe, i’m ready, _ please _ ,” he says. chloe twists her fingers, just to be a tease, and he lets his head fall to the side, rolling his hips with the cadence of her fingers. “ _ please _.”

she indulges him this time, slowly pulling her fingers from inside him and kissing him to sooth the whine that bubbles from his throat. her eyes chase a bead of oil down his side, and then her fingers chase too, her palms coming around the horizon of his ribs warm and slick. he watches her slick up her cock with his lip tucked into his teeth, excitement and desire clearly painted onto his face. chloe shifts back a bit, grabs him by the hips and drags him closer to the edge of the bed. his wings shoot out as if to catch himself, obviously startled, and he blinks up at her for a moment before heat consumes his features again. his eyes dart to the curled muscles in chloe’s biceps, and she feels a twinge of pride at that, a twinge of something else when he reaches down and wraps his fingers around her cock. just the gentle pressure of his downstroke feels divine, coaxing a noise from chloe’s throat.

“tell me you want it,” she says, words dripping from her lips without consulting the rest of her first.

“i want it, i want it so _ badly _ , want you to make me forget my own _ name _,” he says, and chloe feels the muscle in her jaw jump, feels heat climb up her ribs because that’s the only thing she wants, too. she bats his hand away, grips the base of her cock and lines it up with his slick hole. he rocks his hips, so chloe puts her free hand back on his stomach. she gives him a glance, and his eyes are dark and intent on her, even as he nods his consent.

“_ please _.”

chloe presses her hips forward, and she can feel when she breaches him because the pressure is just right. he opens up for her like it’s nothing, and maybe it is, compared to other partners and other things, but the noise he makes is the only thing she can really think about; satisfied and desperate at the same time. she waits for his eyes to flicker back open, to feel his fingers scrabble at her thighs. “good?” she says, and he laughs in a way that sounds like shifting sand; rough and soft all at once. 

“perfect,” he says, and then “_ oh _,” as she pushes further, enough that he can hook his fingers into the strap under her ass and hold tight. he doesn’t try to drag her anywhere, just holds on. she shifts her hips back, and then forward again, and he groans, and she can feel it in her fingertips. it’s a little strange to be on this side of it, and it’s more work, as well. as chloe builds a slow rhythm, she finds she builds up a sweat faster, but his reactions to everything make all of it worth it. she knows she doesn’t have to go fast - he taught her the merits of going slow, after all - but she learns quickly that if she pushes deep and grinds into him his back arches like he can’t help it, and if she rolls her hips in a circle his eyes roll back and his wings shiver all the way down to the bone. she’s hardly touched his cock but it’s still hard and leaking between them, flushed like the rest of him.

it leaps when she reaches into his wings again, accented with a little extra snap in her hips, and he makes a withering sound and squeezes his eyes shut. “i’ll come if you keep doing that,” he gasps, and chloe deliberately looks into his eyes once they flutter open again and buries her fingers into the sensitive underside of his wing, the other settled high on his ribs, where he’s dripping wet. he _ whines _ , rolling his hips to meet her thrust for thrust. his freckles stand out on the red of his chest, and his breathing picks up in just the way it does before he comes, and it’s driving chloe _ wild _ . the tightness of his body pushes her cock against her clit _ just right _, and when she pushes in deep and grinds against it it sends sparks all the way up her spine.

“come on, lucifer,” she says, her fingers finally finding his preen gland and rubbing until he’s soaked and choking on her name, “take me with you.”

and he does; arches his back with a hoarse cry and tightens his fingers in chloe’s harness until her hips are flush with his, as deep as she can go, as he comes between them. chloe grinds into him once, twice, three times, past where he’s whimpering but she chases her own release until she can topple over the edge of orgasm right after him, fucking him through it just to chase her aftershocks, watching him twitch until he groans and splays his hand over her hip to halt her movements.

“bloody hell.” he can barely get it out, through his panting lungs. his eyes are bright, and chloe watches as his lips start to turn up, making him look like he got away with something. she laughs, low and breathless, and watches him turn from smug to besotted in no time flat.

“i agree,” she says, sliding the flat of her hand over his feathers. his eyes find halfway shut and he shivers, his gaze going unfocused again. chloe takes her hand to her lips, the one she’d just saturated in oil, and licks a bead of it from her fingers. he watches, lips parted, enraptured, as the taste settles on her tongue; like static before a storm, like ocean and cold winter sky all at once. she can see his wings shake, scattering whatever light they can find around the room. it’s a shame he’s lying on them - she would have loved to watch them arch and beg for her touch. even so, one lifts as best it can towards her, and she smooths that oil through his flight feathers and listens to his breath catch. she regards him, long enough that he actually squirms a little with it. she pulls out of him slowly, and he huffs at the loss, his fingers untangling from her straps as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“don’t worry,” she says, leaning down to scrape her teeth over the shell of his ear, “i’m not done with you yet.”

lucifer moans, low and deep and feral, and that’s all it takes to make arousal rear its head and sink its teeth back into chloe.

“would you like that? for me to make you come one more time?”

lucifer’s wings splay open as best they can, and he breathes _ yes _ like he can barely get the air in. she reaches to stroke the strong arch of his wing and he makes a pathetic sound high in his throat, feathers trembling so badly she can hear it, the rustle. chloe licks her lips, her mouth dry, and he watches with almost fervent intensity, eyes as dark as a moonless night.

“turn over for me?” chloe says, letting her knuckles trail over a bloodfeather almost like an afterthought. he _ shakes _ with it, arching up, before his mind seems to catch up with her words. she scoots back and he folds his wings tight to turn over. as soon as he’s on his elbows and knees his wings lower and his primaries bristle, submissive and begging, and chloe can finally rake her fingers through the short feathers close to his body and listen to him _ whimper _.

“good boy,” chloe says, watches the line of his shoulders tremble, watches the expansion of breath through his ribcage. she drags her fingers down his back, no nails, just hard enough for bloodless skin to come and fade like shooting stars. he arches into it like a satisfied cat, shifting his knees apart and tossing her a look over his shoulder. she leans over him to kiss him, and the angle is all wrong but he’s still hungry for it, licking into her mouth.

she keeps the name of god off her lips before she says “you’re gorgeous,” awe evident in her tone. he groans, just softly, and stays still for her as she smooths her palm over the curve of his ass. his breath catches when she slides two fingers against where he’s still wet and open for her, ducks his head and chokes on a noise when she pushes them back into him with no resistance.

“_ chloe _.” his voice is brittle and desperate, and slides right into the pit of chloe’s stomach. he makes a sharp noise when she pushes them down and draws them back out, clearly sensitive. she has a moment in which she has no one to thank for letting her have him, except for each of them in turn. she pulls her fingers out of him, slides her palms up for more oil and finds it slick on his skin, warm as sunlight, smooth as whiskey.

“you’re _ soaked _,” she says, and it’s her turn to sound wrecked. she watches the cadence of her voice shiver up his spine, bristle through his wings.

“the things you do to me,” he says. chloe slicks up her cock again, watches him lift a wing to watch her do it. his mouth is kissed red, his skin tacky with sweat and oil. he looks devine, better than any sculptor could ever hope to achieve. “_ please _.”

“please what?”

lucifer bows his head and groans, but there’s no frustration in it. she knows he’s stay just like this for her for as long as she wants him to with no protest. “_ please _ fuck me again, chloe. i _ need _ it. _ please _.”

chloe’s toes curl with the heat of his delivery, and only wants to give him anything he could ask for. she guides her cock back to his hole and pushes into him, dreadfully slow, watching his back bow along with it, the rickety moan he makes when she’s fully seated inside him. she’s so sensitive that just that pressure builds her breath up again; a fresh sheen of sweat pearls cold and brookelike across her back.

she has a plan; his wings are splayed out so invitingly in front of her, shaking with his gasping breaths. she’s careful when she wraps her fingers around the base of them, digs her thumbs in and rubs across the joint at the same time she gives a shallow thrust, and the choked cry he gives her is better than any music, any song. grinding into him feels so, so good, and swiveling her hips makes him _ moan _. she can get the perfect leverage by pulling back on his wings, and he lifts them, arches them in presentation to give her just that. so she can chase the ache. she only lets go of his wings to curve her fingers and drag them over his ribs, right over his preen glands, so he gasps and bucks and lets one of his wings thump against the nightstand, making it teeter precariously before landing upright.

he’s babbling something under the precipice of his pleasure, looping languages around her name and leaving it as penance at her feet. it winds her all the way up again, taking him apart so easily. he’s as old as time and more powerful than she can comprehend, and just the thrust of her hips and the tenderness of her hands on his wings can make him fall apart, forget what the stars tasted like. she’s so _ close _, and she wants to take him with her. she thinks she can, defined by the set of his wings, the shake in his legs, trying to hold himself up. she places a flat palm in between his wings and he goes down readily, back arched, low noise in his chest. he gasps when she grabs a wing, lifts it up. she bucks into him harder than she means to but he doesn’t seem to mind, because she’s chasing that feeling, and it’s the fog in her brain that makes the decision to lean down and fit her mouth over one of his oil glands, press the flat of her tongue to it. the withering wail he makes is all it takes to send her crashing over the edge, coming so hard she digs her fingers into the base of his opposite wing.

“oh,” he chokes, and she can feel the tension in him like a bowstring ready to snap, quivering through his thighs, shaking through his wings, until chloe runs her tongue over his preen gland again and scratches her fingers over the other, and he comes with a hoarse “_ fuck,” _ trembling all the way down to the bone. light scatters off his wings, and then whatever dim lighting had been set in the bedroom dims, and then rushes back double, illuminating chloe’s dazed focus.

she doesn’t even realize she’s chasing her aftershocks by lazily thrusting into him until he reaches back with limp fingers to bat at her hip, mumbling something she doesn’t understand. from the twitch in his wings she’s willing to bet it’s a request for her to quit moving, so she does, catching her breath and listening to him gasp into the sheets where he’d sunk down to press his cheek into them. fresh moonlight filters in, clashing with the warm light of the overhead dimmers, but mixing wondrously on him; warm light on flushed, glimmering skin; pale moonlight catching in his curls. his eyes are half closed bleary and far away. they only shutter shut when chloe pulls out, a shiver wracking him. he slumps soon after, knees giving out so they dangle awkwardly off the bed, clearly not concerned about the mess underneath him.

he tries to speak, but it comes out in a language she doesn’t understand. still, she chuckles, rough with use, and pets down his back before she sets to work trying to rid herself of the harness with heavy limbs and clumsy fingers.

“that good huh?” his only answer is a weak laugh of his own, stretching his arms out in front of him, catlike, his wings extending out all the way before tucking close and comfortable.

chloe’s harness is soaked in several places, and she’s glad for once that it’s not leather and she can just throw it in the wash. it’s dumped, cock and all, onto the floor, so she can crawl back into bed and under one of lucifer’s limp wings.

“we should shower,” she says, and he makes a noncommittal noise and winds an arm over her. she doesn’t make any indication of moving, save for the shake of her shoulders when she laughs.

“lucifer, you’re all oily,” she says. he makes another noise, nosing up under her jaw.

“your fault.” 

“oh, so he speaks!”

he barks a laugh, and finally looks at her right, eyes bright, moonlight bouncing off of them, making them fathomless. he looks so content chloe feels a rush of emotion, one she pours into a kiss to his lips until he sighs into it.

“so, i gather you enjoyed yourself.”

he hums, a smile sliding onto his face that’s an indication of good memories. “indeed.” he looks at her, and his smile goes a little dirty around the edges. “and so did you, from what i heard.”

chloe hums her assent, touching the edges of that salacious smile. “well, i’ll be doing that again for sure.”

“and i’ll be looking forwards to it,” he purrs, leaning in for another kiss. 

they end up dozing, and waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning, tacky with sweat and preen oil. chloe has to unstick some of his feathers, smooth them out into glittering lines again. he tucks his wings away before they meander to the shower, full of loving touches and a few distractions used as an excuse to kiss. lucifer tries to flip on the light for the shower but the lightbulb is blown, and chloe remember the way the lights flickered when he came and they have a laugh about it. they shower in the dark, and chloe is comforted by his solid warmth behind her, and doesn’t worry about all those things one worries about while being naked in the dark.

they don’t pick up their clothes. they don’t pick up the discarded strap-on on the floor. lucifer changes the sheets as quickly as he can and then they crawl back into bed, tired in satiated. chloe is sore in places she didn’t know she could be sore, but the heaviness of her body feels good pressed up against him. she winds around him like ivy, every limb holding every limb. she shuts her eyes, and just before falling asleep she’s aware of the sound of unfurling wings, and one settling protectively overtop of her. lucifer hums something old, and chloe lets the sound of another lifetime gently drag her into slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> i will not be held fully responsible for this
> 
> incalyscent-writes.tumblr.com


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